In a world of abnormal, normal becomes bizarre. In my case, people feared my normalness. I have become a sideshow freak, feared, and fascinating. What did I do? I was born.
If you enter a museum, you’ll see pictures of ancient people. They look weird, yet we were told as children that they were considered normal. These ancient ancestors had arms, legs, heads, and nothing to indicate their personality. We thought they looked abnormal, but our teachers taught that in that time period they looked normal.
I think they looked amazing. I wish I could return to that time, then maybe someone would accept me. Instead, they lock me away, afraid.
You see as we grow we develop physical attributes that show each person’s personality. Flighty? You might grow wings or hair that never settles. Trustworthy? Your lips might blend into your face, or your ears grow bigger. You can tell a lot about someone just by looking.
No one can tell anything about me. I’m normal. Nothing on me shows any personality. I have regular arms and legs with a normal face. My hair and eyes are brown. Nothing is overemphasized or reduced. Nothing of my personality shows.
My family watched and waited for me to change, but it never happened. Eventually, the police found out. They asked the federal department and soon they locked me up in maximum security.
I sit in a cube with a small bed. I can walk 10 steps one way and twelve the other. Attached to my cube is a high-security toilet and shower. They let me out into a small yard with a high wall once a day.
About once a week, one wall of my room becomes a window. People pay to see me, like a freak show from so long ago. Though back then, I would go see the people coming to see me.
It’s been five years. I don’t plan to stay here much longer. Soon I will leave. Someone came to see me yesterday. They convinced a guard to slip me a note. They offered to help me escape. According to the note, a whole society lives in secret, people like me, normal people. I just have to get over that wall.